Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(83)

His aching shaft swelled, fairly begging to at last be sheathed deep inside her. Moving over her, he propped himself on his elbows and inserted a leg, parting her thighs.

She froze at the feel of his cock pressed against the entrance to her center.

“Easy, love,” he whispered into her ear, his words coming out as though he’d run a great distance. “Don’t be afraid.”

Emmaline reached up and twined her fingers in his golden hair. “I could never be afraid of you.”

With that, he slid deeper into her. He closed his eyes and took several, steadying breaths as he willed himself to go slowly. It was bloody torture. He’d longed for this moment since he’d seen her challenge Whitmore in the street with fire in her eyes and outrage on her plump, seductive lips. All he wanted to do was thrust high and deep into her.

She stiffened again and Drake brought a hand between their bodies, fondling her center. Emmaline moaned in response, her head nestling deeper into the feathered pillow beneath her head. Her thighs fell open wider in a sweet invitation.

“That’s it, love,” he breathed and with a sudden thrust, broke past her maidenhead.

Drake’s eyes slid closed as a hiss of breath left his lips. He’d never felt anything like this in his life. Her tightness quivered about his shaft, pulsating, thrumming. She felt like…home.

Emmaline’s eyes slid open and a gasp of pain escaped her.

“Just feel, my love.” He began to move.

He knew the moment Emmaline turned herself over to desire. She lifted her hips experimentally, then grew bolder. A loud, animalistic groan ripped from his throat.

Her hips picked up rhythm. He increased the depth of his strokes. A scream tore from her and she careened out of control. Her release drove Drake over the edge. He let out a triumphant shout, and poured his seed deep inside her. With a groan, he collapsed atop her.

Taking care not to crush her diminutive figure, he braced himself on his elbows, and placed a kiss on her closed lids.

She murmured something inaudible; a pleased smile played about her lips.

“What was that, love?”

“That was wonderful,” she murmured drowsily, and then promptly fell asleep.

Drake rolled beside her, and pulled her into the fold of his arms.

He continued to hold her like that for several hours, not wanting to relinquish this moment of sated peace which had eluded him for years. His eyes grew heavy and he jerked awake as his body tried to pull him into a deep slumber. Drake set her away. He pulled the sheets over her naked form.

Emmaline burrowed into the covers with a contented sigh. He placed one more lingering kiss upon her lips, and went to find his sleep elsewhere.

Drake hovered in the doorway fighting the deep pull to return to her side. He closed his eyes and gripped the sides of the doorway. He could not trust himself to be alone with her—not when he was besieged by nightmares.

With a sigh, he glanced over his shoulder at her, and took his leave.





Chapter 37

Emmaline shivered and nestled into the thick blankets, inching to the opposite side of the bed in search of Drake’s warmth. It wasn’t until she had made her way across the entire bed and hovered at the edge did she realize his spot was empty.

She fought back a yawn and rubbed her eyes. Her gaze landed on the rumpled spot beside her. With a frown, she reached out and ran her fingers over the fabric. Empty and cold, she amended.

Where the devil had her husband gone to?

Emmaline pushed herself up on her elbows, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. A shiver wracked her frame as her feet collided with a thin maroon rug that did little to dull the biting edge of nighttime’s cool spring air.

“Drake?” Her gaze did a quick sweep of the room. She folded her arms across her chest to rub warmth into them and walked over to the windows. Emmaline pulled back the curtains. The stars twinkled up in the dark sky like so many gems thrown onto a black blanket. Emmaline looked at the clock on the fireplace mantle.

Two o’clock in the morning.

She retrieved her rumpled silk nightgown and tugged it over her head, and then searched the room for her robe. Finding it on the floor, she picked it up, and stuffed her arms into the sleeves.

Emmaline sank down onto the edge of her mattress and ran her fingers in circles along the coverlet. A strand of hair fell across her eye and she blew it back. Well, blast and damn, Drake had abandoned her on their wedding night. She considered her husband’s absence, and tried to work out what it meant. Mayhap he’d left because…because…

She tapped her foot in annoyance. Well, damn and blast again, she couldn’t come up with a single, justifiable reason for him to scurry off to….to—wherever it was he’d gone.

And the longer she sat their thinking about it, the more her ire grew. How dare he leave her alone on their wedding night? Emmaline jumped up and with purpose in her steps, crossed to the armoire. She flung the doors open and fished around for a more modest nightgown and wrapper, which she donned in place of the scandalous piece she’d worn for Drake.

Then she set out in search of Drake.

She paused at the door immediately next to her room. Emmaline turned the knob and pushed her way inside. It took her eyes some time to adjust to the darkness of Drake’s chambers. When they finally did, she peered around and noted his untouched bed.

So her husband had not sought out his own bed. Which was only slightly more mollifying.